Cauldron
Faclan 's Ceòl le | Words & Music by Fiona Mackenzie
Tha feachdan impireach Bhreatainn air a bhith a' cleachdadh agus a' sgainnirich ar daoine agus ar fearainn fad linntean. Feumaidh sinn a bhith mothachail air na dòighean olc a th’ aca.
'Operation Cauldron' was a series of secret biological warfare trials carried out by the British Government in 1952 off the N.E coast of Lewis. Visit our website, or search 'Operation Cauldron', 'Operation Dark Harvest', ‘Gruinard Island' and 'Obanaghoro Nigeria Testing' to find out more about the subject matter of this song.
Tha feachdan impireach Bhreatainn air a bhith a' cleachdadh agus a' sgainnirich ar daoine agus ar fearainn fad linntean. Feumaidh sinn a bhith mothachail air na dòighean olc a th’ aca.
'Operation Cauldron' was a series of secret biological warfare trials carried out by the British Government in 1952 off the N.E coast of Lewis. Visit our website, or search 'Operation Cauldron', 'Operation Dark Harvest', ‘Gruinard Island' and 'Obanaghoro Nigeria Testing' to find out more about the subject matter of this song.
Salt and sea blows through the air
A new cloud will form a darkness there
The cry of gull in its despair
When 'Ben Lomond' comes we’ll taste their fear
'Carella', won’t you turn away
To seek out your finds in waters clear
For what was once the island’s pride
Now seeps dark sorrow with the tide
The masks of guilt to hide your face
The wind that blew with chance of fate
Your monkey blood washed on the shore
Now Tolsta’s bloom is pure no more
'Porton Down', you’ve called our name
Your secrets of shame burn deep within
The death and pain you brought us near
Obanaghoro can you hear
The Isle of Gruinard weeps through time
The devil has landed with his mines
With anthrax soil you're past repair
The wrath of the people; 'Dark Harvest' is here
A new cloud will form a darkness there
The cry of gull in its despair
When 'Ben Lomond' comes we’ll taste their fear
'Carella', won’t you turn away
To seek out your finds in waters clear
For what was once the island’s pride
Now seeps dark sorrow with the tide
The masks of guilt to hide your face
The wind that blew with chance of fate
Your monkey blood washed on the shore
Now Tolsta’s bloom is pure no more
'Porton Down', you’ve called our name
Your secrets of shame burn deep within
The death and pain you brought us near
Obanaghoro can you hear
The Isle of Gruinard weeps through time
The devil has landed with his mines
With anthrax soil you're past repair
The wrath of the people; 'Dark Harvest' is here